BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



GENERAL W1L:,[AM 0. BUTLER. 



BY FRANCIS P. BLAIR. 



Iv memoirs of individuals of distinction it is 
usual to look back to their ancestry. The^ feeling 
is universal which prompts us to learn something 
of even an ordinary acquaintance in whom interest 
is felt. It will indulge, therefore, only a natural 
and proper curiosity to introduce the subject of 
thi.s notice by a short account of a fatnily whose 
striking traits survive in him so remarkably. 

General Butler's grandfather, Thomas Butler, 
was born 6th April, 1720, in Kilkenny, Ireland. 
He married there in 174:2. Three of his five sons 
who attained manhood, Richard, William, and 
Thomas, were born abroad. Pierce, the father of 
General William 0. Butler, and Edward, the 
youngest son, were born in Pennsylvania. It is 
remarkable that all these men, and all their imme- 
diate male descendants, with a single exception, 
w€re engaged in the military service of this coun- 
try. 

The eldest, Richard, was lieutenant colonel of 
Morgan's celebrated rifle regiment, and to him it 
owed much of the high character that gave it a 
fame of its own, apart from the other corps of the 
Revolution. The cool, disciplined valor which 
gave steady and deadly direction to the rifles of 
this regiment, was derived principally from this 
officer, who devoted himself to the drill of his men. 
He was promoted to the full command of a regi- 
ment sometime during the war, and in thatcapacity 
commanded Wayne's left in the attack on Stony 
Point. About the year 1790, he was appointed 
major general. On the 4ih of Novem!>er, 1791, he 
was killed in General St. Clair's bloody battle with 
the Indians. His combat with the Indians, after 
he was shot, gave such a peculiar interest to his 
fate, that a representation of himself and the group 
surrounding him, was exhibited throughout the 
Union in wax figures. Notices of this accom- 
plished soldier will be found in Marshall's Life .of 
Washington, pages 290, 311, 420. In General 
St. Clair's report, in the American Museum, vol. 
xi. page 44, Appendix. 

, William Butler, the second son, was an oflicer 
ihroughoLit the revolutionary war; rose to the rank 
of colonel, and was in many of the severest battles. 
He was the favorite of the family, and was boasted 
of by this race of heroes as the coolestand boldest 
man in battle they had ever known. When the 
army was greatly reduced in rank and file, and 
there were many superfluous officers, they organ- 
ized themselves into a separate corps, and elected 
htm to the command. General Washington de- 
clined receiving this novel corps of commissioned 
soldiers; but in a proud testimonial did honor to 
their devoted patriotism. 

Of Thomas Butler, the third son, we glean the 
following facts from the American Biographical 
Dictionary. In the year 1776, whilst he was a 
student of law in the office of the eminent Judge 
Wilson of Philadelphia, he left his pursuit and 



joined tlie army as a subaltern. He soon obtained 
the command of a company, in which he continued 
to the close of the revolutionary war. He was in 
almost every action fought in the middle States 
during the war. At the battle of Brandywine he 
received the thanks of Washington on the field of 
battle, through his aid-de-camp, General Hamilton, 
for his intrepid conduct in rallying a detachment 
of retreating troops, and giving the enemy a severe 
fire." At the battle of Monmouth he received the 
thanks of General Wayne for defending a defile, 
in the face of a severe fire from the enemy, while 
^Colonel Richard Butler's regiment made good its 
retreat. 

At the close of the war he retired into private 
life, as a farmer, and continued in the enjoyment 
of rural and domestic happiness until the year 1791, 
when he again took the field to meet the savage 
foe that menaced our western frontier. He com- 
manded a battalion in the disastrous battle of Nov- 
ember 4, 1791, in which hia brother fell. Orders 
were given by General St. Clair to charge with the 
bayonet, and Major Butler, though his leg had 
been broken by a ball, yet, on horseback, led his 
battalion to the charge. It v/ns with difficulty hia 
surviving brother. Captain Edward Butler, re- 
moved him from the field. In 1792 he was con- 
tinued in the establishment as major; and in 1794 
he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel 
commandantof the 4th sub-legion. He commanded 
in this year Fort Fayette, at Pittsburg, and pre- 
vented the deluded insurgents from taking it, more 
by his name than by his forces, for he had but 
few troops. The close of his life was imbittered 
with trouble. In 1803 he was arrested by the 
commanding general, Wilkinson, at Fort Adams, 
on the Mississippi, and sent to Maryland, where 
he was tried by a court-martial, and acquitted of 
all the charges, save that of wearing his hair. He 
was then ordered to New Orleans, v/here he ar- 
rived, to take command of the troops, October 20th. 
He was again arrested next month; but the court 
did not sit until July of the next year, and their 
decision is not known. Colonel Butler died Sep- 
tember 7, 1805. Out of the arrest and persecution 
of this sturdy veteran, Washington Irving (Knick- 
erbocker) has worked up a fine piece of burlesque, 
in which General Wilkinson's character is inimit- 
ably delineated in that of the vain and pompous 
General Von Poffenburg. 

Percival Butler, the fourth son, father of Gen- 
eral William 0. Butler, was born at Carlisle, 
Pennsylvania, in 1760. He entered the army as 
a lieutenartt at the age of eighteen; was with Wash- 
ington at Valley Forge; was in the battle of Mon- 
mouth, and at the taking of Yorktown — being 
through the whole series of struggles in the mid- 
dle States, with the troops under the commander- 
in-chief, except for a short period when he was 
attached to a light corps, commanded by Lafayette, 



N^ 






who presented liim a sword. Near the close of 
the war, he went to the South with tlie Pinnsyl- 
vania hrifrade, where peace found him. He emi- 
grated to Kentucky in 1784. lie wa.s the last of the 
old stock left wlien the war of 1812 commenced. 
He was made adjutant general when Kentucky 
became a Slate, and in that capacity joined one of 
the armies sent out by Kentucky during tlie war. 

Edward Butler, the youngestof thefive brothers, 
was too young to enter the army in the first stages 
of the Revolution, but joined it near the close, and 
had risen to a captaincy when General St. Clair 
took the command, and led it to that disastrou.i 
defeat in which so many of the best soldiers of the 
country perished. He there evinced the highest 
courage and strongest fraternal affection, in carry- 
ing his wounded brotheroutof the massacre, which 
was continued for miles along the route of the re- 
treating army, and from which so few escaped, 
even of those who fled unencumbered. He sub- 
sequently became adjutant general in Wayne's 
army. 

Of these five brothers, four had sons, all of whom, 
with one exception, were engaged in the military or 
naval service of the country during the last war. 

1st. General Richard Butler's son, AVilliam, died 
a lieutenant in the navy, early in the last war. His 
son, Captain James Butler, was at the head of the 
Pittsburg Blues, which company he commanded 
in the campaigns of the northwest, and was par- 
ticularly distinguished in the battle of Massissin- 
nawa. 

2d. Colonel William Butler, also of the revolu- 
tionary army, had two soup: one died in the navy, 
the other a subaltern in W i\ne's army. He was 
in the battle with the India 's in 1794. 

3d. Lieutenant Colonel I'homas Butler, of the 
old stock, had three sons, the eldest a'judge. The 
•secu.v;, C<i!oriel Robert Butler, was at'the'head of 
General Jackson's staff throughout the last war. 
T'lc third, William E. Butler, also served in the 
army of General Jackson. 

4th. Percival Butler, captain in the revolution- 
ary war, and adjutant general of Kentucky during 
the last war, had four sons: first, Thomas, who 
was a captain, and aid to General Jackson at New 
Orleans; next, General William O. Butler, the 
subject of this notice; third, Richard, who was 
assistant adjutant general in tlie campaigns of the 
war of 1812; Percival Butler, the youngest son, 
now a distmguished lawyer, was not of an age to 
bear arms in the last war. Of the second genera- 
tion of the Butlers, there are nine certainly, and 
probably more, engaged in the present war. 

This glance at the family .shows the character of 
the race. An anecdote, derived from a letter of an 
old Pennsylvania friend to the parents, who trans- 
planted it from Ireland, shows that its military 
instinct was an inheritance. " While the five 
sons," says the letter, " were ab.sent from home 
in the .service of the country, the old father took it 
in his head to go also. The neighbors collected 
to remonstrate against it; but his wife said, ' Let 
him go! 1 can get along without him, and raise 
Bomclhing to feed the army in the bargain; and the 
country wants every man wlio can shoulder a mus- 
ket.' " It was doubtless this extraordinary zeal 
of tlie Butler family which induced Genertil Wash- 
ington to give the toast, "The Butler.'^, and their 
five sons," at his own table, whilst surrounded by 
a large party of officers. This anecdote rests on 
the authority of the late General Findlny, of Cin- 
cinnati. A similar tribute of respect was paid to 



thia devoted house of soldiers by General Lafny 
efte, in » letter now extant, and m the possession 
of a lady connected with them by marriage. La- 
fayette says, " Whtn I vanled a thing tceUdone, I 
onlertd a Hutler to do it." 

From il'.is retrospect it will be seen, that in r\!l 
the wars oi the country — in the revolutionary w^r, 
in the Ii.'iian war, in the last British war, and the 
present iMexican war — the blood of almost every 
Butler able to bear arms has been freely shed in 
the public cause. Major General William O. 
BuTLi'.K i • now among the highest in the military 
service uf his country; and he has attained this 
grade from ihe ranks, the position of a private 
being the onl , one he ever sought. At the open- 
ing of the war of 1812, he had just graduated in 
the Transylvania University, and was locking to 
the law as a profession. The surrender of Detroit 
and oflhearmy by Hull aroused the patriotism and 
the valor of Kentucky; and young Butler, yet in 
his minority, was among the first to volunteer. He 
gave up his books and the enjoyments of the gay 
and polished society of Lexington, where he lived 
among a circle of ibnd and partial relations — the 
hope to gratify their ambition in shining at the bar, 
or in the political forum of the State — to join Cap- 
«tain Hart's company of infantry as a private sol- 
dier. 

Before the march to join the northwestern army, 
he was elected a corporal. In this grade he march- 
ed to the relief of Fort Wayne, which was invested 
by hostile Indians. Tlie.se were driven before the 
Kentucky volunteers to their towns on the Wa- 
bash, which were destroyed, and the troops then 
returned to the Miami of the lakes, where they 
made a winter encampment. Here an ensign's 
commission in the second regiment of United States 
infantry was tendered to the volunteer corporal, 
which he declined, unless permitted to remain with 
the northwestern army, v.'liich he had entered to 
share in the effort of the Kentucky militia to wipe 
out the disgrace of Hull's surrender by the recap- 
ture of Detroit. His proposition was assented to, 
and he received an ensign's appointment in the sev- 
enteenth infi\ntry, then a part of the northwestern 
army, under the command of General Winchester. 
After enduring every privation in a winter encamp- 
ment, in the wildernesses and frozen marshes of 
the lake country, awaiting in vain the expected 
support of additional forces, the Kentucky volun- 
teers, led by Lewis, Allen, and Madison, 'with 
Wells's regiment, (17th U. S.,) advanced to en- 
counter the force of British and Indians which de- 
fended Detroit. On leaving Kentucky, the volun- 
teers had pledged themselves to drive the British 
invaders from oursoil. These men and their lead- 
ers were held in such estimation at home that the 
expectation formed of them exceeded their prom- 
ises; and these volunteers, though disappointed in 
every succor which they had reason to anticipate— 
wanting in provision, clothes, cannon, in every- 
lliing — resolved, rather than lose reputation, to 
press on to the entcriirisc, and endeavor to draw on 
after them, by entering into action, the troops be- 
hind. It is not proper here to enter into explana- 
tions of the causes of the disaster at the River 
Raisin, Ihe consequence of this movement, nor to 
give the particulars of the battle. The incidents 
which signalized the character of the subject of 
this memoir alone are proper here. 

There were two battles at the River Raisin, one 
on the 18th, the other on the 22d of January. In 
the first, tiie whole body of Indian warriors, drawn 



3 



together from all the lake tribes, for the deffficf, of 
Upper Canaria against the approaching Kendtck- 
ians, \vere encountered. In moving to the attack 
of this formidable force of the fiercest, and biavesi, 
and most expert warriors on tlie continent, a furong 
party of them were descried from the Ime with 
which Ensign Butler advanced, run'iMi^: '"■irward 
to reach a fence, as a cover from whi-i: t? ; !y their 
rifles. Butler instantly proposed, and vvi; permit- 
ted, to anticipate them. Calling upon some of the 
most alert and active men of the company, he ran 
directly to meet the Indians at the fence. He and 
his comrades outstripped the enemy, and getting 
possession of the fence, kept the advantage of the 
position for their advancing friends. This incident, 
of however little importance as to results, is worth 
remembrance in giving the traits of a young sol- 
dier's character. It is said that the hardiest vet- 
eran, at the opening of the- fire in battle, feels, for 
the moment, somewhat appalled. And General 
Wolfe, one of the bravest of men, declared that the 
"horrid yell of the Indian strikes the boldest heart 
with affright." The stripling student, who, for 
the first time, beheld a field of battle on the snows 
of the River Raisin, presenting in bold relief long 
files of those terrible enemies, v/hose massacres had 
filled his native State with tales of horror, must 
have felt some stirring sensations. But the crack 
of the Indian rifle, and his savage yell, awoke in 
him the chivalric instincts of his nature; and the 
promptitude with which he communicated his en- 
thusiasm to a few comrades around, and rushed 
forward to meet danger in its most appalling form, 
risking himself to save others, and to secure a tri- 
nm|)h which he could scarcely hope to share, gave 
earnest of the military talent, the self-sacrificing 
courage, and the soldierly sympathies which have 
drawn to him the nation's esteem. The close of 
the Ijftttle of the ]8ih gave another instance in 
which these lattertraits of Gen. Butler's character 
were still more strikingly illustrated. The Indians, 
driven from the defences around the town on the 
River Raisin, retired fighting into the thick woods 
beyond it. The contest of sharp-shooting from 
tree to tree was here continued — the Kentuckians 
pressing forward, and the Indians retreating — until 
night closed in, Vifhen the Kentuckians were re- 
called to the encampment in the village. The In- 
dians advanced as their opposers withdrew, and 
kept up the fire until the Kentuckians emerged 
from the woods into the open ground. Justasthe 
column to which Ensign' Butler belonged reached 
the verge of the dark forest, the voice of a wounded 
man, wlio had been left some distance l)ehind, was 
heard calling out most piteously for help. Butler 
induced three of his company to go back in the 
woods with him to bring him off. He was found, 
and they fought their way back — one of the men, 
Jeremiah Walker, receiving a shot, of which he 
Bubsequently died. 

In the second sanguinary battle of the River 
Raisin, on the 22d of January, with the British and 
Indians, another act of self devotion was perform- 
ed by Butler. After the rout and massacre of the 
right wing, belonging 'to Wells's command, the 
whole force of the British and Indians was concen- 
trated against the small body of troo|)s under Ma- 
jor Madison, that maintained their ground within 
the picketed gardens. A doulile barn, command- 
ing the plot of ground on which the Kentuckians 
stood, was approached on one side by the Indians, 
under the cover of an orchard and fence; the Brit- 
ish, on the other side, being so posted as to cona- 



mand the space between it and the pickets. A 
party in the rear of the barn were discovered ad- 
vancing to take possession of it. All saw the fatal 
consequences of the secure lodgment of the enemy 
at a place which would present every man within 
the pickets at close rifle-shot to the aim of their 
marksmen. Major Madison inquired if there was 
no one who would volunteer to run the gauntlet of 
the fire of the British and Indian lines, and put a 
torch to the combustibles within the barn, to save 
the remnant of the little army from sacrifice. But- 
ler, without a moment's delay, took some blazing 
sticks from a fire at hand, leaped the pickets, and 
running at his utmost speed, thrust the fire into the 
straw within the barn. One who was an anxious 
spectator of the event we narrate, says, " that al- 
though volley upon volley was fired at him, Butler 
after making some steps on his way back, turned 
to see if the fire' had taken, and not being satisfied, 
returned to the barn an'd set it in a blaze. " As the 
conflagration grew, the enemy was seen retreating 
from the rear of the building, which they had en- 
tered atone end, as the flame ascended in the other. 
Soon after reaching the pickets in safety, amid the 
shouts of his friends, he was struck by a ball in 
his breast. Believing from the pain he felt that 
it had penetrated his chest, turning to Adjutant 
(now General) McCatla, one of his Lexington 
comrades, and pressing his hand to the spot, he 
said, "I fear this shot is mortal, but while I am 
able to move, I will do my duty." To the an.xious 
inquiries of this friend, who met him soon after- 
ward again, he opened his vest, with a smile, and 
showed him that the ball had spent itself on the 
thick wadding of his coat and on his breast bone. 
He suffered, however, for many weeks. 

The little band within the pickets, which Win- 
chester had surrendered, after being carried him- 
self a prisoner into Proctor's camp, denied his 
powers. They continued to hold the enemy at 
bay until they were enabled to capitulate on hon- 
orable terms, which, nevertheless. Proctor shaine- 
fully violated, by leaving the sick and wounded 
who were unable to walk to the tomahawk of his 
allies. Butler, who was among the few of the 
wounded who escaped the massacre, was marched 
through Canada to Fort Niagara — suffering under 
his wound and every privation — oppressed with 
grief, hunger, fatigue, and the inclement cold of 
that desolate regim. Even here lie forgot himself, 
and his mind wandered back to the last night scene 
which he surveyed on the bloody shores of the 
River Raisin. He gave up the heroic part and be- 
came the school-boy again, and commemorated his 
sorrows for his lost friends in verse, like some 
passionate, heart-broken lover. These elegiac 
strains were never intended for any but the eye of 
mutual frietids, whose sympathies, like his own, 
poured out tears with their plaints over the dead. 
We give some of these lines of his boyhood, to 
show that the heroic youth had a bosom not less 
kind than brave. 

THE FIELD OF RAISIN. 
The bailie 's o'er ! tlie din is past, 
Niglit's nianlle on the field is cast ; 
Tlio [iidian yoU is heard no inoie, i 

And silence hroo<ls o'er Ei Il-'s shore. 
At tliis lone hour I go to tread 
The field where valor vainly bled — 
To raise the wounded warrior's crest. 
Or warm with tears his icy breast; 
To treasure up his last command, 
And bear it to his native land. 



4 



It may one pulse of joy impart 
To a loud motlier's hloediiig heart; 
Or tor a iiUmieiil it may dry 
Till" ttai-ilrnp in iho widow's eye. 
Vain hope, aw;iy ! The widow ne'er 
Her warrior's dying wishfhall hear. 
The passing zephyr bears no sijih, 
No wounded warrior meets the uye— 
Death is his sic'tp hy Eri<.'s wave, 
Of Raisin's snow we heap his grave t 
How many hopes lie murderKd-here-:- 
The mother's joy, the father's pride. 
The eonntry's boast, the foeman's fear, 
In wilder'd havoc, side by side. 
Lend me, thou silent queen of night, 
Lend me awliile thy waning light, 
That I may see each well-loved form. 
That sunk beneath the morning storm. 
These lines are introductory to what may be 
considered a succession of epitaphs on the per- 
sonal friends wliose bodies he found upon tlie field. 
It would extend the extract too far to insert them. 
We can only add the close of the poem, where he 
takes leave of a group of his young comrades in 
Hart's company, who had fallen together. 
And here I see that youtliful band, 
That loved to move at Hart's command ; 
I saw them for the battle dressed. 
And still where danger thickest pressed, 
I marked their crimson plumage wave. 
How many filled this bloody grave ! 
Their pillow and their winding-sheet 
The viri,'in snow — a shroud most meet I 

But wherefore d.) I linger here ? 
Why drop the unavailing tear.' 
Wliere'er I turn, some youlhful form, 
Like flowret broken by the storm, 
Appeals to nio in sad array. 
And bids nie yet a moment stay. 
Till I could fondly lay ine down 
And sleep with him on the cold ground. 

For thee, thou dread and solemn plain, 
I ne'er shall look on thee again ; 
And Spring, with her cffaoing showers, 
Shall come, and Sumnier's mantling fl)vvers; 
• And each sueceediiig Winter throw 
On thy red breast new robes of snow; 
Yet I will wear thee in my heart, 
All dark and gory as thou art. 
Shortly after liis return from Canada, Ensign 
Butler was promoted to a captaincy in the regi- 
ment to which he belonged. But as this promo- 
tion was irregular, being made over the heads of 
senior officers in that regiment, a captaincy was 
given him in the 44th, a new raised regiment. 
When free from parole, by exchange, in 1814, he 
instantly entered on active duly, with a company 
which he liad recruited at Nashville, Tennes.see. 
His regiment was ordered to join General Jackson 
in the South; but Captain Butler, finding its move- 
ments too tardy, pushed on, and effected that junc- 
tion with his company alone. General Call, at 
that time an officer in Captain Butler's company, 
(since Governor of Fhu-ida,) in a letter addressed 
to Mr. Tanner, of Kentucky, presents, as an eye- 
witness, so gra|)hically the share which Captain 
Butler had in the campaign which followed, that 
it may well supersede any narrative at second 
liand: 

"Tallahassee, .'?;)?-i« 3, 1844. 
"Sir: T avail myself of the earliest leisure I 
have had since the receipt of your letter of the 18th 
of February, to give you a reply. 

"A difference of political sentiments will not 



indui-e me to withhold the narrative you have re- 
quested »:f the military services of Colonel VVu.mam 
0. Bi; rLKR, during the late war with Gr«'a; IWitain, 
while attached to the army of the Si'vith. My 
intimate association with him, in camp, '>>i the 
march, and in the field, has perhaps ni . le me as 
well acquainted with his merits, na a '^enileman 
and a soldier, as any other man living. And al- 
though we are now standing in opposite ranks, I 
cannot forget the days and nights we have stood 
side by side, fttcing the common enemy of our 
country, shaiing the same fatigues, dangers, and 
privations, and participating in the same pleasures 
and enjoyments. The feelings and sympathies 
springing from such associations in the days of» 
our youili can never be removed or impaired by a 
diffeience of opinion with regard to men or meas- 
ures, when each may well believe the other equally 
.sincere as himself, and where the most ardent de- 
sire of both is to sustain the honor, the happiness, 
and prosperity of our country. 

" Soon after my appointment in the army of the 
United States, as a lieutenant, in the fall of 1814, 
I was ordered to join the company of Captain 
Butler, of the 44th regiment of infantry, then at 
Nashville, Tennessee. When I arrived and re- 
ported myself, I found the company under orders 
to join our regiment in the South. The march, 
mostly through an unsettled wilderness, was con- 
ducted by Captain Butler with his usual prompti- 
tude and energy; and, by forced and rapid move- 
ments, we arrived at Fort Montgomery, the head- 
quarters of General Jackson, a short distance above 
the Florida line, just in time to follow our beloved 
general in his bold enterprise to drive the enemy 
from his strong position in a neutral territory. 
The van-guard of the army destined for the inva- 
sion of Louisiana, had made Pensacola its head- 
quarters, and the British navy in the Gulf of Mex- 
ico had rendezvoused in that beautiful bay. 

"The penetrating sagacity of General Jackson 
discovered the advantas;e of the position assumed 
by the British forces, and with a decision and en- 
ergy which never faltered, he resolved to find his 
enemy, even under the flag of a neutral Power. 
This was done by a prompt and rapid march, sur- 
prising and cutting off all the advanced jiiikets, 
until we arrived within gunshot of the fort at Pen- 
sacola. The army of General Jackson was then 
so inconsiderable as to render a reinforcement of a 
single company, commandtd by such an officer as 
Captain Butler, an important acquisition. And 
althou<;li there were several com|)anies of regular 
troops ordered to march fromTcnnessee at thesame 
time, Capt. Butler's, by his extraordinary energy 
and jiromptitude, was the only one which arrived 
in time to join this expedition. His company 
formed a part of the centre column of attack at 
Pensacola. The street we entereil was defended 
by a battery in front, which fired on us incessantly, 
v/liile seveial strong Ijlock-houscs on our flanks 
discharged upon us small arms and artillery. But 
a gallant and rapid cliar^e soon carried the guns in 
front, and the town immediately surrendered. 

" In this fight Captain Butler led on his com- 
pany with his usual intrepidity, tie had one 
officer, Lieutenant Flournoy, severely wounded, 
and several non-commissioned officers and private^ 
killed and wounded. 

" From Pensacola, after the object of the expe- 
dition was completed, by another prompt and 
rapid movemenr, we arrived at New Orleans a few 
weeks before the apj)earance of the ciioniy. 



"On :\:a 23d of December the signal-gun an- 
nounced liie approach of the enemy. The previous 
night they had surprised and captured one of our 
pickelf?-. bad ascended a bayou, disembarked, and 
had taken possession of the left bank of the Mis- 
■isslppi, u'ithin six miles of New Orleans. The 
energy of every officer was put in requisition to 
concentrate our forces in time to meet tbe enemy. 
Captain Butler was one of the first to arrive at 
the Geoeral'squarteis and ask instructions. Tliey 
were received and promptly executed. Our regi- 
ment, stfliioned on the opposite side, was trans- 
ported ■c.i.c. the river. Ail tlie available forces of 
our army, not much exceeding fifteen hundred 
men, were concentrated in the city; and while the 
sun went down the line of battle was formed, and 
every officer took the station assigned him in the 
fight. The infantry formed on the open square, in 
front of the Cathedral, waiting in anxious expecta- 
tion for the order to move. During this moment- 
ary pause, while the enemy was expected to enter 
the city, a scene of deep and thrilling interest was 
presented. Every gallery, porch, and window 
around the square were filled with the fair forms 
of beauty, in silent anxiety and alarm, waving 
their handkerchiefs to the gallant and devoted band 
which stood before them, prepared to die or defend 
them from the rude intrusion of a foreign soldiery. 
It was a scene calculated to awaken emotions never 
to be forgotten. It appealed to the chivalry and 
patriotism of every officer and soldier — it inspired 
every heart, and nerved every arm for battle. From 
this impressive scene tiie army marched to meet 
the enemy, and about eight o'clock at night they 
were surprised in their encampment, immediately 
on the banks of the Mississippi. Undiscovered, 
our line was formed in silence within a short dis- 
tance of the enemy. A rapid charge was made 
into their camp, and a desperate conflict ensued. 
After a determined resistance the enemy gave way, 
but disputing every inch of ground we gained. In 
advancing over ditches and fences in the night, 
rendered still more dark by the smoke of the bat- 
tle, much confusion necessarily ensued, and many 
ofiicers became separated from their commands. 
It more than once occurred during the fight that 
some of our officers, through mistake, entered the 
enemy's lines, and the British officers in like man- 
ner entered ours. The meritorious officer in com- 
mand of our regiment at the commencement of the 
battle lost his position in the daikness and con- 
fusion, and was unable to regain it until the action 
was over. In this manner, for a short time, the 
regiment was without a commander, and its ijiove- 
ments were regulated by the platoon officers, which 
increased the confusion and irregularity of the ad- 
vance. In this critical situation, and in the heat 
of the battle, Captain Butler, as the senior officer 
present, assumed command of the regiment, and 
led it on most gallantly to repeated and successful 
charges, until the fight ended in the complete rout 
of the enemy. We were still pressing on their 
rear, when an officer of the general's staff rode up 
and ordered the pursuit discontinued. Cajitain 
Butler urged its continuance, and expressed the 
confident belief of his ability to take many prison- 
ers if permitted to advance. But the order was 
promptly repeated, under the well-founded appie- 
liension that our troops might come in collision 
with each other, an event which had unhappily 
occurred at a previous hour of the fight. No corps 
on that field was more bravely led to' battle than the 
regiment commanded by Captain Butler, and no 



officer of any rank, save the Commander-in-chief, 
was entitled to higher credit for the achievement of 
that glorious night. 

" A short time before the battle of the 8th of Jan- 
uary, Captain Butler was detailed to command the 
guard in front of the encampment. A house stand- 
ing near the bridge, in advance of his position, had 
been taken possession of by the light troops of the 
enemy, from whence they annoyed our guard. 
Captain Butler determined to dislodge them and 
burn the house. He accordingly marched to the 
attack at the head of his command, but the enemy 
retired before him. Seeing them retreat, he halted 
his guard, and advanced himself, accompanied by 
two or three men only, for the purpose of burning 
the house. It was an old frame building, weather- 
boarded, without ceiling or plaster in the inside, 
with a single door opening to the British camp. 
On entering the house, he found a soldier of the 
enemy concealed in one corner, whom he captured 
and sent to the rear with his men, remaining alone 
in the house. While he was in the act of kindling 
a fire, a detachment of the enemy, unperceived, 
occupied the only door. The first impulse was to 
force, with his single arm, a passage through them, 
but he was instantly seized in a violent manner by 
two or three stout fellows, who pushed him back 
against the wall with such a force as to burst off 
the weather-boarding from the wall, and he fell 
through the opening thus made. In an instant he 
recovered hinnself, and under a heavy fire from the 
enemy, he retreated untd supported by the guard, 
which he immediately led on to the attack, drove 
the British light troops from their strong position, 
and burnt the house in the presence of the two 
armies. 

" 1 witnessed on that field many deeds of daring 
courage, but none of which more excited my ad- 
miration than this. 

" Captain Butler was soon after in the battle of 
the 8th of January, where he sustained his pre- 
viously high and well-earned reputation for bra- 
very and usefulness. But that battle, which, from 
its important results, has eclipsed those which pre- 
ceded it, was but a slaughter of the enemy, with 
trivial loss on our part, and presenting few instances 
of individual distinction. 

" Captain Butler received the brevet rank of 
major for his gallant services during that eventful 
campaign, and the reward of merit was nev%r more 
worthily bestowed. Soon after the close of the 
war he was appointed aid-de-camp to General 
Jackson, in which station he remained until he 
retired from the army. Since that period I have 
seldom had the pleasure of meeting with my val- 
ued friend and companion in arms, anil I know 
but little of -his career in civil life. But in camp, 
his elevated principles, his intelligence, and gen- 
erous feelings, won f<ir him the respect and confi- 
dence of all who knew him; and where he is best 
known, I will venture to say, he is still most highly 
appreciated for every attribute which .constitutes 
the gentleman and the soldier. 

" 1 am, sir, very resnecttully, 

" R. K. CALL. 

" Mr. William Tanner." 

General Jackson's sense of the services of But- 
ler, in this memorable campaign, was strongly 
expressed in the following letter to a member of 
the Kentucky Legislature: 

" Mermitagb, Felruary^O, 1844. 

"My DEAR Sir: You ask mi* lo give you my ')itiiiif>n of 
the military services of the then Cai)tain, now Coloufl, WiLr- 



6 



LiAM O. BuTF.KR, of KcntiickVjduriii'ilho investmoiitof N(!w 
Orlcaii.s liy lli(r Brilisli rorcesiii 181l,\iiil 1815. I wish I had 
snlticiriit stri'ii^ih to speiik fully <>l llie mciit and the ser- 
vici's of Col. nil I BdTi.EU on that occasion; this ^trl■ng(h J 
have not. Sultice it to say, that on all occasions hi- ili^-- 
played that huroic chivalry and calmness of jndatnent in llir 
iiiii'l.-l of danaer, which distini;aisli the valuable nfli.vr in 
tliiMiour of li'altle. In a conspicuous nianiicr wrrc rhnse 
r.ohle qualities displayed by htm on the nielif of llie 23d 
Dccenilicr, 1814, and on the 8th of jHn».-iry, I-l.'', as well as 
at all times during the presence m ilic Uriii~ii army at New 
Orleans. In short, he wa.-i to be founil it all points where 
duty called. I hazard nothing in saying, that should our 
country asrain bu^'n<;:iged in war during the active age of 
Colonel BuTi.ER, lie would he one of .the very best selections 
tliat could be made to command our army, and lead the 
Easiles of our country on to victory and renown. He has 
sufficient oneri'y to assume all responsihility necessary to 
Buccess, and for his country's good. 

"ANDREW JACKSON." 

Getieral Jack.son g;rive earlier proof of the high 
estimation in which he held the young soldier who 
had identified himself wilh his own glory at New 
Orleans. He made him his aid-de-camp in 181 G; 
which station he retained on the peace establish- 
ment, with the rank of colonel. But, like liis 
illustrious patron, he soon felt that inilitary station 
and distinction had no charms for him, when im- 
attended with the dangers, duties, and patriotic 
achievements of war. He resigned, therefore, 
even the association with his veteran chief, of 
which he was so proud, and retired in 1817 to pri- 
vate life. He resumed his study of the profes- 
sion that was interrupted by the war, married, and 
settled down on his patrimonial possession at the 
confluence of the Kentucky and Ohio rivers, in the 
noisele.'iS i>ut arduous vocations of civil life. The 
abode which he had chosen made it peculiarly so 
with him. The region around him was wild and 
romantic, sparsely settled, and by pastoral people. 
There are no populous towns. The high, rolling, 
and yet rich lands — the precipitous cliffs of the 
Kentucky, of Eagle, Savern, and other tributaries 
which pour into it near the mouth — make this sec- 
tion of the State still, to some extent, a wilderness 
of thickets — of the tangled pea-vine, the grape- 
vine, and nut-bearing trees, which rendered all 
Kentucky, until the intrusion of the whites, one 
great Indian park. The whole luxuriant domain 
was preserved by the Indians as a pasture for 
buffalo, deer, elk, and other animals — their enjoy- 
ment alike as a chase and a subsistence — by cx- 
cludin* every tribe from fixing a habitation in it. 
Its name consecrated it as the dark and bloody 
ground; and war pursued every foot that trod it. 
Ill the midst of this region, in April, 1791, William 
O. Butler was born, in Jessamine county, on the 
Kentucky river. His father had married in Lex- 
ington, soon after his arrival in Kentucky, 1782, 
Miss Hawkins', a sister-in-law of Colonel Todd, 
who commanded and perished in the battle of the 
Blue-Licks. Following the instincts of his family, 
which seemed ever to court danger. Gen. Pierce 
Butler, as neighborhood encroached around him, 
removed, pot long after the birth of his son Wil- 
liam, to the mouth of the Kentucky river. Through 
this section the Indian war-path into the heart of 
Kentucky passed. Until the peace of 1794, there 
was scarcely a day that some hostile savage did 
not prowl through the tangled forests, and the lab- 
yrinths of hills, streams, and cliffs, which ada)itcd 
this region to their lurking warfare. From it 
they emerged when they made their last formida- 
ble incursion, and pushed their foray to the envi- 
rons of Frankfort, the capital of the State. Gen. 
Pierce Butler had on one side of him the Ohio, on 
the further shore of which the savage hordes still 



held t! I mastery, and on the other the roman'ic 
rev'' I .11 lugh which they hunted and prfBsed 
t!.' : iiUerprises. And here, amid the scenes 

ul r warfare, his son William had that spirit 

which has animated him through life, educated by 
the legertds of the Indian-fighting hunters of Ken- 
tucky. 

To the feelings and taste inspired by the pecu- 
liaritus of the place and circumstances adverted to 
rnust be attributed the return of Colonel Butler to 
his father's home, to enter on his profession a.5 
a lawyer. There were no great causes or rich 
clients .to attract hiin — no dense population to lift 
him to the political honors of the State. The 
eloquence and learning, the industry and integ- 
rity which he gave to adjust the controversies 
of Gallatin and the surrounding counties would 
have crowned him with wealth and professional 
distinction if exhibited at Louisville or Lexing- 
ton. But he coveted neither. Independence, the 
affections of his early associates, the love of a 
family circle, and the charm which the recollec- 
tion of a happy boyhood gave to the scenes in 
which he was reared, were all he sought. And he 
found them all in the romantic dells and wood- 
land heights of the Kentucky, and on the sides of 
the far-spreading, gently-flowing, beautiful Ohio. 
The feeling which his sincere and sensitive nature 
had imbibed here was as strong as that of the 
Switzer for his bright lakes, lofty mountains, and 
deep valleys. The wild airs of the boat horn, 
which have resounded for so many years from 
arks descending the Ohio and Kentucky, floating 
along the current and recurring in echoes from the 
hollows of the hills, like its eddies, became as 
dear to him as the famous Rans de Vache to the 
native of Switzerland. We insert, as characteris- 
tic alike of the poetical talent and temperament of 
Butler, some verses which the sound of this rude 
in.strument evoked when he returned home, resign- 
ing with rapture "the ear-piercing fife and spirit- 
stirring drum" for the wooden horn, which can 
only compass in its simple melody such airs as 
that to which Burns has set his beautiful words — 
Wlien wild war's deadly blast was blawn, 

And gentle peace returning, 
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, 

And mony a widow mourning; 
I left the lilies and tented field. 

The music of this song made the burden of the 
" Boatman's Horn," and always annotinced the 
approaching ark to the river villages. 

The sentiments of the poet, as well as the sweet 
and deep tones which wafted the plaintive air 
over the wide expanse of the Ohio, may have con- 
tributed to awaken the feeling which pervades these 
lines. 

THE BOAT HORN. 

O, boatman ! wind that horn again, 

For never did the list'ning air 

Upon its lambent bosom bear 
So wild, so soft, so sweet a strain. 
What tliouiih thy notes are sad and few, 

By every simpl(! Iioatiiian blown.' 
Yet is each pulse to nature true, 

And melody in every tone. 
How oft, in boyhood's joyous day, 

Unmindl'nl of the lapsing hours, 
I've loitered on my homeward way 

By wild Ohio's briiil\ of flowers. 
While some lone boatman, from the deck, 

Poured lus soft nuiuliirs to tliat tide, 



- 7 



As il to charm from storm and wreck 

Tlie boat where all his fortunes ride ! 
Deliuiited Nature drank the sound, 
Em h.mted— Eclio bore it round 
In wliis^pers soft, and softer still, 
From hill to plain, and plain to hill, 
Till e'en the thoughtless, frolick boy, 
Elate with hope, and wild with joy, 
Who gamboled by the river's side. 
And sported witli tlie fretting tide. 
Feels soinethini; new pervade his breast. 
Chain his lii-htstep, repress his jest, 
Bends o'er the flood his eager ear 
To catch the sounds far off, yet dear — 
Drinks the sweet draught, but knows not wliy 
The tear of rapture fills his eye. 
And can he now, to manhood grown. 
Tell why those notes, simple and lone, 
As on the ravished ear Uiey fell. 
Bind every sense in magic spell? 
There is a tide of feeling given 
To all on earth, its fountain Heaven: 
Beginning with the dewy flower, 
Ju^t oped in Flora's vernal bower- 
Rising creation's orders through 
With louder murmur, hiighter hue: 
That tide is sympathy ! its ebb and fliow 
Give life its hues of joy and wo: 
Music the master-spirit that can move 
Its waves to war, or lull them into love — 
Can cheer the sinking sailor mid the wave. 
And bid the soldier on ! nor fear the grave — 
Ins^pire the fainting pilgrim on his road. 
And elevate his soul to claim his God. 
Then, boatman ! wind that hnni aj>ain ! 
Though much of sorrow mark its strain, 
Yet are its notes to sorrow dear: 
What though they wake fond memory's tcari" 
Tears are sad memory's sacred feast, 
And rapture oft her chosen guest. 

This retirement, wliich may almost be considered 
seclusion, was enjoyed by Colonel Butler nearly 
twenty-five years, when he was called out by the 
Democratic party to redeem by his personal popu- 
larity tlie Congressional district in which he lived. 
It was supposed that no one else could save it/ 
from the Whigs. Like all the rest of his family, 
none of whom had ntfade their military service a 
passport to the honors and emoluments of civil 
stations, he was averse to relinquish the altitude 
he occupied to enter on a party struggle. The 
importuniiyof friends prevailed; and he waselected 
to two successive terms in Giongress, absolutely 
refusing to be a candidate a third time. He spoke 
seldom in Congress; but in two or three fine 
speeches which appear in the debates, a power 
wfll readily he detected which could not have failed 
to conduct to the highest distinction in that body. 
Taste, judgiTient, and eloquence, characterized all 
his efforts in Congress. A fine manner, an agree- 
able voice, and the high consideration accorded to 
him by the members of all parties, gave him, what 
it is the good fortune of few to obtain, an attentive 
and gratified audience. 

In 1844, the same experiment was made with 
Butler's popularity to carry the State for the De- 
mocracy, as had succeeded in his Congressional 
district. He was nominated as the Democratic 
candidate for Governor by the 8th of January 
convention; and there is good ground to believe 



that he would have been chosen ovet iis estirnaVJe 
^A'^if^cpmpetilor, Governor Owsky , bur for the 
universal conviction throughout the ''^t;<te that the 
defeat of Mr. Clay's parly, by tl e .hoice of a 
Democratic Governor in August, W(.\ii',' luive oper- 
ateil to injure Mr. Clay's prospects ilnv ighout the 
Union, in ihe Presidential election whi^ !i followed 
immediately after in JVovember. Wiih Mr. Clay's 
popularity, and the activity cf all his friends — with 
the Slate pride so long exalted by ihe as[):ration of 
giving a President to the Union — more eagerly 
than ever enlisted against the Democracy, Co!(>nel 
Butler diminished the Whig majority f,o:ii •A'.cnty 
thousand to less than five thousand. 

The late military events with which Major Gen- 
eral Butler has been connected — in consequence 
of his elevation to that grade in 1846, with the 
view to the command of the volunteers raised to 
support General Taylor in his invasion of Mexico 
— are so well known to the country, that minute 
recital is not necessary. He acted a very con- 
spicuous part in the severe conflict at Monterey, 
and had, as second in command under General 
Taylor, his full share in the arduous duties and 
responsibilities incurred in that important move- 
ment. The narrative of Major Thomas, senior 
Assistant AdjutantGeneral of the army in Mexico, 
and hence assigned by General Taylor to the stafT 
of General Butler, reports so plainly and mod- 
estly the part which General Butler performed 
in subjecting the city, that it may well stand for 
history. This passage is taken from it: "The 
army arrived at their camp, in the vicinity of Mon- 
terey, about noon, September 19th. That after- 
noon, the General endeavored by personal obser- 
vation to get information of the enemy's position. 
He, like General Taylor, saw the importance of 
gaining the road to Saltillo, and fully favored the 
movement of General Worth's division to turn 
their left, &.c. Worth marched, Sunday, Septem- 
ber 20th, for this purpose, thus leaving Twiggs's 
and Butler's divisions with General Taylor. Ger,»- 
eral Butler was also in favor of throwing his 
division across the St. John's river, and approach- 
ing the town from the east, which was at first de- 
termined upon. This was changed, as it would 
leave but one, and perhaps the smallest division, 
to guard the cainp, and attack in front. The 20th, 
the General also reconnoitered the enemy's posi- 
tion. Early the morning of the 21st, the force 
was ordered out to create a diversion in favor of 
Worth, that he might gain his position; and be- 
fore our division came within long range of the 
enemy's principal battery, the foot of Twiggs's 
division had been ordered down to the northeast 
side of the town, to make an armed reconnoissance 
of the advanced battery, and to take it if it could 
be done without great loss. The volunteer division 
was scarcely formed in rear of our howitzer and 
mortar battery, established the night previous under 
cover of a rise of ground, before the infantry sent 
down to the northeast side of the town became 
closely and hotly engaged, the batteries of that di- 
vision were sent down, and we v.ere then ordered to 
support the attack. Leaving the Kentucky regi- 
ment to support the mortar and howitzer battery, 
the General rapidly put in march, by a flank move- 
ment, the other three regiments, moving for some 
one-and-a-half or two miles under a heavy fire of 
round shot. As further ordered, the Ohio regi- 
ment was detached from duitman's brigade, and 
led by the General (at this time accompanied by 
General Taylor) into the town. Quitman carried 



8 



his brifjadc dirccUy on the battery first attJicked, and 
gallantly cariiod it. Before tijiJ, hcwever, as we 
entered the euburbs, the chief engineer caine .ip 
and advised us to withdraw, as the objeti i ne 
attack had .failed, and if we moved on wt niu 
meet \vith great loss. The General was loail. to 
fall back wMhout consulting uiih Ci'iicin! Taylor, 
which he did do — the GeiYeral being but a short 
distance olT. As wfe were withdrnving, news came 
that Q.uiin\;\n liad carried the battery, and General 
Butler led ihcOliio regiment back to the town at a 
different point. In the street we became exposed 
to a line of batleries on the opposite side of a small 
Stream, and also from a tele ile pont (bridge-head) 
which enfiladed us. Our men fell rajjidly as we 
moved U|) the street, to get a position to charge the 
battery across the stream. Coming to a cross- 
street, the General reconnoitered the position, and 
determining to charge from that point, sent me 
back a .short distance to stop the firing, and ad- 
vance the regiment with the bayonet. I had just 
left him, when he was struck in the leg, being on 
foot, and was obliged to leave the field." 

"On entering the town, the General and his 
troops became at once hotly engaged at short mus- 
ket range. He had to make iiis reconnoi.ssances 
under iieavy fire. This he did unflinchingly, and 
by expo.siiig his person — on one occasion passing 
through a large gateway into a yard, which was 
entirely open to theenemy. When he was wounded, 
at the intersection of tiie two streets, he was ex- 
posed to a cross-fire of inusketry and grape." 

" In battle the General's bearing was truly that 
of a soldier; and those under him felt the influence 
of hi.s presence. He had the entire confidence of 
his men." 

The narrative of Major Thomas continues: 
" Wiien Gen. Taylor went on his expedition to 
Victoria, in December, he placed General Butler 
in command of the troops left on the Rio Grande, 
and at the stations from the river on to Saltillo — 
Worth's small division of regulars being at the 
latter place. General Wool's coluiTin had liy tliis 
time reached Parras, one hundred or more miles 
west of Saltillo. General Butler had so far recov- 
ered frotn liis wound as to walk a little, and take 
exercise on horseback, though with pain to his 
limb. One night, (aiiout the 19th DeceiTiber,) an 
express came from General Worth at Saltillo, 
slating that the Mexican forces were advancing in 
large numbers from San Luis de Potosi, and that 
he expected to be attacked in two days. His 
division, all told, did not exceed fifteen hundred 
men, if so many, and he asked reinforcements. 
The General remained up duritig the balance of 
the night, sent ofl" the necer..?;iry couriers to the 
rear for reinforcements, and had the 1st Kentucky 
and the 1st Ohio foot, then encamped three miles 
from town, in the pl.ice by daylight; and these two 
regiments, with Webster's battery, were encamped 
that night ten miles on the road to Saltillo. This 
promptness enabled the General to make his sec- 
ond day's march of twenty-two miles in good sea- 
son, and to hold the celebrated pass of Los Mucrtos, 

Washington, June, 1848. 



and v-li/ck theenemy should he have attacked Gen- 
eral W^orth on that day, and obliged him to evac- 
uate the town. Whilst on the next, and last day's 
marcii, the General received notice tliat the reported 
advance of the enemy was untrue. Arriving at 
the camp-ground, the General suffered intense 
pain from his wound, and slept not during the 
night. This journey, over a rugged, mountainous 
road, and the exerci.se lie took in examining the 
country for twenty miles in advance of Saltillo, 
caused the great increase of pain now experi- 
enced." 

The Major's account then goes on to relate Gen- 
eral Butler's proceedings while in command of all 
the forces, after the junction of Generals Worth and 
Wool — his dispositions to meet the threatened 
attack of Santa Anna — the defences created by him 
at Saltillo, and used during the attack at Buena 
Vista in dispersing Miunn's forces — his just treat- 
ment of the people of Saltillo, with tiie prudent 
and eflfeclual precautions taken to make them pas- 
sive in the event of Santa Anna's approach. It 
concludes by stating that all apprehensions of 
Santa Anna's advance subsiding, General Butler 
returned to meet General Taylor at Monterey, to 
report the condition of aflTairs; and the latter, hav- 
ing taken the command at Saltillo, transmitted a 
leave of absence to General Butler, to afford 
opportunity for the cure of his wound. 

This paper aff'ords evidence of the kind feeling 
which subsisted between the two Generals during 
the campaign, and this sentiment was strongly 
evinced by General Butler, on his arrival in 
Washington, where he spoke in the most exalted 
terms of the leader under whom he served. 

In person General Butler is tall, straight, and 
handsomely formed, exceedingly active and alert. 
His mien is inviting, l.is manners graceful, his 
gait and air military, his countenance frank and 
pleasing, the outline of his features of the aquiline 
cast — thin and pointed in expression, — the general 
contour of his head is Roman. 

The character of General Butler in private life 
is in fine keeping with that exhibited in his public 
career. In the domestic circle, care, kindness, 
a.ssiduous activity in anticipating the wants of all 
around him — readiness to forego his own gratifi- 
cations to gratify others, have become habits 
growing out of his affections. His love makes 
perpetual sunshine at' his home. Among his 
neighbors, liberality, alfability, and active sym- 
pathy, mark his social intercourse, and unbending 
integrity and justice all his dealings. His home 
is one of unpretending simplicity. It is too much 
the habit in Kentucky, with stern and fierce men, 
to carry their persnrml and ]iolitical ends with a 
high hand. General Butler, witii all the mascu- 
line strength, courage, and reputation to give suc- 
cess to attempts of tliis sort, never evinced tiie 
slightest diKf)Osition to indulge the power, whilst 
his well known firmness always forbade such 
attempts on him. His life has been one of peace 
with all men, except the enemies of his coun- 
try. 



Print>;il at tlie Con-ressional Globe Office, Jacksoy Hall, Washington, D. C— Price 50 cents per hundred copies. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
011899 339 1 i 



i 



HOLLINGER 
pH 8.5 

MILL RUN F3-1543 



